


Penthouses and Homes

by hulucthulhu



Category: Captain America, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Adultery, Agoraphobia, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Anxiety, Art, Artist!Steve, Depression, F/M, I have no idea where this is going, M/M, PTSD, Sex, Shower Sex, mentions of Thor/Steve, mentions of torture, self medication, slow bloom, sweet spiraling steve, will tag as continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulucthulhu/pseuds/hulucthulhu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is a brilliant engineer who's abduction and torture left him with severe PTSD and with severe agoraphobia (terrified to leave his tower). Steve Rogers, a soldier discharged after an accident, is hired as his "personal assistant," or as JARVIS calls him Tony's "companion." Steve is trying to rebuild his life and learning to follow his dreams. Tony is trying to keep it together and learning to be okay again. Together they navigate the shadows of their minds and form a deep bond.</p><p>I was going to continue this but I have been struggling on where to go for so long because where I left off just felt right. so here it's complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hi, Steve. I’m sorry you have to deal with this on your first day, but Tony’s in a bit of a mood. But you’re clean and punctual and you’re bringing him coffee so that will help! Don’t worry about it too much, just try to get him to take his meds and be aware of what we talked about before. Hope your first day goes well. I have a good feeling about you, Steve. Bye!”

The cheery voice of Pepper Potts ended and a robotic voice asked if he’d like to hear it again, delete it, or respond to it. He just tapped end key and threw it into his pocket.  He took a deep breath of the New York autumn air, it was laced with the scent of gasoline and exhaust on the busy street, and the familiar smell of coffee, heavy and bitter.

Stark Towers loomed above him, its shadow making the sunny morning feel like it was covered with rain clouds. The doorman let him pass, and the receptionist already knew him from his frequent meetings with Pepper. He stepped into the private elevator behind her desk, letting the cardboard tray in his hands keep him steady, lest he spill his new boss’s coffee. He swiped his key card and as the elevator took off a smooth british voice filled the space.

“Good day, Mr. Rogers. Master Stark is currently in laboratory #3. He seems to be having a bit of a spell.”

He smiled, Pepper had told him about JARVIS and he was excited to finally “meet,” him. He knew JARVIS already had every picture in the world of him and a dossier big enough to fill a library, but he wasn’t worried. “You can just call me ‘Steve,’ JARVIS. And thank you, Ms. Potts already called to tell me. Is there anything I should know?”

“He has a hangover, no shoes, and his medication is in the cabinet above the sink in the kitchen, Sir.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish you luck, sir. Ms. Potts seems to think you will be a good companion for Tony.”

“The job is ‘personal assistant.’”

“That’s the title, not the actual purpose, sir.”

Steve pursed his lips and mulled over the AI’s response as the elevator door opened to a stunning penthouse. He spied the kitchen and walked slowly to avoid spilling coffee on the immaculate plush carpet, and partly because he was taking the place in in stunned silence. This entry room was bigger than his apartment alone. He found a serving tray already on the counter. He set the cup of coffee down on it and added two of Tony’s pills in a small dish next to it.

“How long since Tony has eaten, JARVIS?”

“Eighteen hours, sir. His blood sugar levels are reaching critically low levels.”

“Thanks,” he said as he prepared a bagel and a bowl of fruit and set them on the tray too. Part of his job was trying to get Tony to eat more than take out and protein bars. He thought it curious a man who barely left his penthouse, let alone the building would eat almost exclusively from outside sources.

He took the stairs down, crashing noises and loud rock echoed off the walls, growing louder as he descended.

Through the observation window he could see a disheveled, soot and grease streaked Tony Stark. He just watched, like watching the tigers at the zoo, as the man paced back and forth mumbling to himself or to JARVIS. He still had never met Tony. He’d been uneasy about taking the job without actually meeting the man himself, but Pepper said it was for the best. Tony didn’t like new people, and if Pepper vetted him and Tony had no choice but to deal with him for at least a couple days the whole thing might be a little better. But Tony Stark was pacing as he bounced a screw driver in his hand nervously, and Steve Rogers was standing awkwardly with a tray of food just watching the genius.

He slid his key card in the door and was greeted with a flood of music.

“But if we make the next series of cars completely self-driving it’ll eliminate the possibility of people getting hijacked, JARVIS. They’ll be nothing to threaten. If they have self defense features no one could attack them and it would reduce kidnappings, accidents, jackings and illegal organ harvests. No one would be taken if they are actually as safe as they think they are. It’s perfect Jay.”

“A virus could compromise the computer system the AI would be running on, sir.”

“Tony Stark’s work does not get hacked!” he yelled and turned on his heel. Shock hit him like he’d run into a wall when he came face to face with Steve Rogers. All blue eyes and golden hair and muscles. The pictures in his file did not do him justice.

“Tony Stark does however need to eat,” Steve said without preamble.

“JARVIS you didn’t tell me the new nanny was here,” Tony said blankly at the man as he set the tray on the desk.

“My apologies, Sir.” JARVIS replied. Steve almost laughed at how insincere the AI sounded.

“Is this all organic? I don’t eat anything processed and where is this coffee from?”

“The food is from your own fridge, and the coffee is from Maria’s. Black and hot.”

“Why are there pills here too?” Tony looked scornfully at the dish containing them not approaching it as if it would bite him.

“Because you have to take them, sir.”

“Sir? Are you and JARVIS in league?”

“No, but you are my boss.”

“Just call me ‘Tony,’ I don’t want my nanny sounding like my AI.”

Steve laughed a little as he pulled out Tony’s chair for him, “Yes, sir.”

Tony looked at it wearily, “I’m not taking the pills.”

“How about we make a deal?”

“Is it the kind where you end up naked in my bed?” Tony waggled his eyebrows.

This is what Pepper had warned him about. Seduction, mind games, manipulation. But Steve would play back.

“No, but if you eat your breakfast you don’t have to take them.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but there’s a catch.”

“You’re really a cop aren’t you, and not the fun stripper kind?”

“No. You have to go to sleep after you eat if you don’t take your pills.”

“No. Not going to happen. I’m in the middle of designing a new car computer system that will run autonomously and-“

“Then you take your pills.”

“But I-“

“Just eat right now.”

Tony sighed but looked at the food and a wave of hunger hit him. He ate quickly and efficiently. Eating each type of fruit separately before leveling the cream cheese on his bagel off with a knife. Steve watched as the genius held it up at eye level, checking the level of the spread.

“Why do you have to have it level?”

“Nothing can go wrong if you’re aware of it.”

“Cream cheese can go wrong?”

“Well, not really but if you start slipping there you start slipping other places. Design and production plans, financially, security. Stuff gets caught on the ridges, the flaws, the wholes and soon you’re drowning in it.” His hand twitched nervously towards his chest where the glowing blue circle of the arc reactor shone dimly through his t-shirt. Tony took a bite of his bagel.

“I know the feeling,” Steve said.

“How could _you_ possibly _know?”_ Tony spit back suddenly

“If you take a pill, I’ll tell you.”

Tony glared at him, and ate his bagel, but after a minute or two he spoke, “Just one, and you tell.”

“Okay, sounds fair,” Steve said, taking a pill out of the dish and setting it in front of Tony.

He sighed and swallowed it down with coffee,  sticking his tongue out mockingly at Steve after.

“Thank you,” Steve said with a smile.

“Spill the beans, pretty boy. Let all the dirty little secrets out.”

“I was a soldier. Special ops in Eastern Europe and the northern Middle East. We were focusing on drug and weapons smugglers. We were driving over the mountains, I was actually doing the driving and Bucky, my foster brother was navigating to the camp. We got hit with a roadside bomb and ambushed. They killed the rest of the guys, and took Buck and I captive. “

Tony swallowed nervously.

“They killed him. In front of me. And then beat me into a coma.”

“How long were you out?”

“Seven years.”

“Jesus fuck. When did you wake up?!”

“About a year and a half ago.”

“How do you look like a greek god if you were a potato for almost a decade?”

“I signed a consent form before we landed, if anything were to happen to me I allowed them to use my body for science. Since I showed no brain activity they were able to use me basically as a beating heart cadaver.”

“YOU LET THEM CUT YOU UP?!” He screamed, Steve winced.

“They didn’t cut me up, Tony. They experimented a muscle growth and retention serum on me. Stuff to use on other people in comas or with wasting diseases or in zero gravity.” He lifted his arm up and flexed nonchalantly. Muscles rippling under tan skin and tight cotton made Tony’s mouth go dry. “I guess it worked pretty well.”

“You were brain dead though,” Tony said quietly.

“They said it was a miracle I woke up with no brain damage. One day I just woke up. They said I was lucky, but I lost everything. My best friend died in front of me, my fiancé had moved on, all my stuff was gone.”

“The princess didn’t want to wait for sleeping handsome?”

“Would you wait for a vegetable?”

“If he looked like you I would,” Tony leered.

Steve chuckled softly and set the other pill in front of Tony.  “How about it?”

“Will you tuck me in?” He batted his eyelashes jokingly but leaned close to Steve who could smell the coffee and grease.

“No.”

“Well shit,” Tony sighed, “Are you at least going to come back tomorrow?”

“If you stop trying to get me to sleep with you.”

The engineer laughed, “Not gonna happen, soldier.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back,” he said smiling softly as Tony swallowed the second pill.

Steve ushered him into the bedroom and made sure he got into bed. 

“JARVIS, make sure he gets some sleep.”

“Certainly, Steve.”

“Night…well, afternoon, Tony.”

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“What did you do when you woke up?”

“I tried to re-enlist.”

“They wouldn’t let you in.”

“Nope.”

“So now you’re a nanny?”

“I’m going to art school, and babysitting handsome billionaires to pay for it. Now go to sleep, Tony.” He closed the door softly.

Tony’s fingers traced the arc reactor on his chest. Maybe he wasn’t alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to update regularly, but I'm a fulltime student with two jobs, so no promises. I have no idea where I am going with this, I can't wait to see where it takes me. Feedback is much appreciated! Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Steve is like clockwork. He shows up with coffee and breakfast whether Tony has slept or not, every single day. At first Tony finds his presence obnoxious. But he soon fades into the background. He sits silently, sketching in a guarded notebook while somehow keeping an eye on Tony also.

When the mailboy sends a piece of mail meant for the IT department to Tony, he’s convinced its anthrax, or a bomb, or a death threat. Before he has the robots take it to the lab, Steve snatches it up, and walks out to the terrace. Tony cringes as he opens it. It’s simply junk mail for AOL version 57. Steve smiles as he hands the offending CD package to Tony. He stares incredulously at Steve, then at the disc.

“How should we vanquish this villain, Mr. Stark?”

“Uhm..”

“Come on,” Steve waves his hand, resisting the urge to grab the well worn hands of his boss. Tony follows him to the terrace, but stops in the doorway. He’s vulnerable out there. “Tony, come on.”

“Can’t.”

“Okay, do you think you could throw it off the edge from there?”

“What?”

“Do you have a good throwing arm?”

“I guess?”

“Okay then!” Steve smiles that all-american corn-fed smile and hands Tony the disc. “Go ahead.”

Tony smirks and throws the plastic disc. It soars over the ledge, and is carried off by the wind. He takes a step onto the terrace, craning his neck to see where it went. Steve is smiling at him.

“Congratulations, Tony,” he smiles before patting him on the shoulder and going back inside.

Steve got Tony to his meetings on time, even made sure the meeting rooms were up to Tony’s standards and personally patted down the meeting attendees himself.

If he was going to take a job like this, he was going to do it well. Tony was not a logo, he was not a design, or a computer program. He was a person. And if the panic attacks, anxiety, and rainbow of medication was anything to go by, he was a fragile person.

Steve became attuned to Tony’s idiosyncrasies and his needs. When he woke up in the morning, he found himself excited to see what Tony would be working on today, and wondering what ledge he’d talk Tony down from.

After about three weeks Pepper called him down to her office.

“Steve! You look well,” She said, her gorgeous smile as genuine as she sounded.

“Thank you, Ms. Potts. You’re looking lovely as ever.”

“I just wanted to see how things with Tony are going. I mean I’ve seen you with him, and talked to Tony a bit, but I just wanted to see things from your side.”

“Right, right. It’s going well. Tony is a very interesting man.”

“He seems to like your company.”

“We don’t really talk much.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s a comfortable silence.”

“Any questions or concerns you have?”

“I’m not sure I’m right for the job, Ms. Potts.”

Her delicate brow furrowed, “Why is that?”

Could he tell her that recently he’d begun to realize how attractive Tony is? Or that when Tony started babbling science he’d become totally entranced with the man, not daring to take his eyes off? Or that Tony’s joking propositions sounded more and more like a better idea? Or that he was starting to genuinely care about Tony Stark and his happiness?

“I don’t know if I have enough emotional control,” he said tightly.

Pepper gave a slight smile, it was coy and knowing, “Steve, do you know why I chose you?”

“Because I’m tidy and I don’t have an anger problem?”

“That, and because Tony needs more than a live in nanny. He needs a friend. I watched you for a long while. You’re a very emphatic person. Very kind. Discrete.”

“You hired me to be Tony Stark’s friend?”

“I hired you to be his personal assistant, but I was hoping you’d become his friend.”

Steve frowned, he didn’t like being used like this, “I don’t—I can’t—I have to—“

“Steve, please don’t quit.”

“I have to think about it.”

* * *

Blood, so much blood. Crushing pressure caving in fragile ribcages. Breath needed but not coming. The electric jolt of a car battery. Dirt and blood flaking on skin.

Tony’s screams wake him up; shaking, sweat streaming down his body, sliding over his arc reactor. He throws the damp blankets off and slides out of his too big bed.

“Sir, do you require any assistance? Your vitals are all elevated, and you’re making your way to the bar with alarming haste.”

“Shut up, JARVIS.”

“Sir.”

He doesn’t look at what bottle he grabs. Just snatches the closest one and doesn’t bother with a glass. He shuffles to the chess set, chugging the bottle as he goes. He plays against himself, more focused on the bottled than a game.

Steve’s phone rings, bringing him out of muddy nightmares. He can’t quite remember them, but he can’t shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach. The clock says it’s 3:37am.

“Uh, hello?”

“Hello, Steve. My apologies for waking you, but Master Stark seems to be in a large amount of distress and a large pool of alcohol,” JARVIS said. The AI sounded almost nervous.

“Have you tried Ms. Potts?”

“Ms. Potts is currently out of the country on business. You are the next on the emergency contact list.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll be right there.”

“Would you like me to send a driver?”

“No, JARVIS. Let people sleep. I’ll just take my bike, I’ll be there soon.”

He hung up the phone. He slid a rumpled pair of jeans on and threw a jacket over his worn Dodgers shirt. He’d met Tony Stark less than a month ago. He was an employee. Being called at 4am to calm his boss down didn’t feel right. But he couldn’t say no, could he? He couldn’t disappoint Pepper, or leave Tony to his own twisted devices, he’d get fired, or worse. But this, he couldn’t get over the feeling of inherent wrongness.

To say he loved riding his motorcycle at this time of night would be an understatement. It was perfect. The nearly empty streets allowing him to glide through the city effortlessly, a bird in flight weaving through the streets and allies like tree branches. The ride seemed over too soon as he pulled into the Stark Towers parking garage and showed is ID badge to the security guard on duty.

He took the elevator to the main lobby before stepping in the private elevator to the labs and penthouse and guest suites.

“JARVIS, how is Tony doing?”

“Master Stark’s blood alcohol content is .23 and he’s losing chess to himself. He also appears to be arguing with the chess set.”

“Right, okay.” Suddenly he felt like he was drowning. How do you handle this sort of thing? Steve isn’t his friend, Steve is his nanny. He fiddled nervously with the sleeves on his jacket.

“If I may wish you luck, sir,” JARVIS said, almost like he was reading the soldier’s mind.

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

The elevator doors dinged open to the dark apartment.  The soft sounds of muttering and a beam of low light came from the living room area. The penthouse looked so much different in the hazy darkness of the night. Instead of the open, sunlight extravagance it held in the day, it became an intimidating, cold cavern with an encroaching sense of loneliness.

“Tony?” he called out as he slipped off his shoes at the door and padded towards the light. “Tony, is everything o—“ he stopped when he saw the engineer slumped over the chess board, empty bottle on the floor, another in his hand, face sullen and wet with tears.

“What th’ fuck er you doin’ here?” he slurred, eyes narrowing as if he could shoot laser beams out of them.

“JARVIS called, I got worried.”

“Another lie from the liar,” he continued to glare and tried to move a chess piece but only succeeded in knocking a few others over.

“Excuse me?” Steve took a few steps closer slowly. “Tony, what are you talking about?”

“People jus’ don’ wake up from comas _Steve,”_ he stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at the larger man, “soldiers don’ jus’ become artists.”

“Genius engineers just don’t become alcoholics.”

Tony stared for a moment in stunned silence. People did not talk to Tony Stark that way.

“What th’ fuck d’you know about my life,” he spat at the man before guzzling what was left in his bottle.

“Nothing. Nothing beyond what Wikipedia told me before I applied for a job in your graphic design department. Nothing beyond what Ms. Potts told me. Tony, I’m in charge of taking care of a man I know nothing about, I’m flying a little blind here. I’m not lying now. Why would I lie to you before?”

“Yer story, it’s kinda like mine,” he said, swaying. The bottle in his hand seemed to throw the balance off. Steve gently breached the space between them,  taking the bottle from him, and setting it on the ground. A firm hand suddenly brushed through his hair, sending shivers up his spine. He stopped, bent over at the waste, the bottle on the ground his hand hovering above it, Tony’s hand in his hair. Suddenly it was gone, he looked up at the other man, whose glassy eyes held a sadness that couldn’t be drowned.

He straightened out, “why don’t I get you some water, come on, let’s sit down, and you can tell me what I don’t know.”

“Water is good,” Tony said as Steve’s hand on his lower back guided him to one of the couches. He melted into the cushions.  A moment later Steve returned with a glass of cool water, “Is dis from the tap?”

“Nope, from the fridge.”

“”Kay, good.”

He drank it greedily and Steve took a seat on a chair next to the couch and watched him. Tony could see the dark smudges under his eyes. His tshirt looked soft and almost too thin to still exist. It was probably older than Steve himself, he thought.

“So why the solo party?”

“PTSD. Nightmares. Genius, billionaire, playboy, alcoholic.”

“Agoraphobe, too.”

“Yeah. That.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Wha’ are you, my shrink?”

“No, that’s Dr. Banner. Though we could call him, if you want.”

“No. Bruce is a busy guy.”

“Okay. Do you think you can eat something? It’ll help sober you up.”

“Sure, whatever.”

Tony didn’t want to be sober. Sober meant dealing. Sober meant meetings. Sober meant expectations. Drunk meant blackouts with no nightmares. Drunk meant no one bothering him. Drunk meant an excuse to grab that tight denim clad ass in front of him swaying out of the room and out of reach.

Before he realized time had passed, Steve as back, setting a toasted BLT sandwich in front of him and another glass of water. Tony noted idly that he’d made one for himself.

“That’s my food,” without any spite, more as a statement.

“Yeah, sorry. I was hungry. Is this okay?”

“Steve, I could make a billion BLT’s and still have money left.”

“Well, thank you anyways.”

They ate in silence. Tony carefully eating the sandwich, trying to decide if the alcohol would kick it back up his throat, or he could enjoy it. Steve wolfed his down with only the speed a high metabolism starving artist can achieve. The clock on the wall read 5 o’clock. Steve could see the first fingers of dawn peeling back the horizon.

“I was in Afghanistan,” Tony suddenly says quietly, “giving a demo of new weapons. We were ambushed. Terrorists. They killed almost everyone and took me. Except I got hurt,” his hand fluttered to his chest. To the arc reactor under his black tank top.  “Guy there with me, Yinsen, saved my life. H-he…He helped me build this,” he taps the glowing blue circle. “powers an electromagnet that keeps a hold on some shrapnel that wants to go Edward Scissorhands on my heart.”

Tony looks at Steve for the first time since he began speaking.  Steve was rapt with attention, hands clasped as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Tony looked away.

 “How did you get out?”

“Yinsen and I built a suit of powered armor under the guise of building our captors weapons. I used it to burn their compound to the ground. But I-I killed Yinsen during the escape accidentally.”

“Tony,” Steve’s voice said, heavy with sorrow.

“The man I thought of as a second father, Obie, Obedia Stane, he’d orchestrated the whole thing. The kidnap. He was selling them weapons. Never saw it coming,” Tony took a sip of his water. “So now I keep around Pepper, and JARVIS, and I guess you know. No one who can hide secrets.”

“Why don’t you leave the tower?”

“Can’t get hurt if no one can get to me.”

“Tony…”

“Why art school?” he looked at Steve suddenly with a sense of urgency.

“I-I’d always talked about it, with my foster brother, Bucky. When I enlisted with him, I found the first thing I was good at. Became a captain, but refused to get out of the field.”

“You’re like twenty-five, how in the hell did you become a captain?”

“I was good at my job. Also I managed to free an entire POW camp by myself.”

“Now that one I have to hear,” Tony says, whistling through his teeth.

“Another time.”

“Back to Bucky, art school, etc.”

“When I woke up, they told me I couldn’t serve anymore. Didn’t want me to become a liability in case there was residual damage from  the coma or the experiments. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I found this comic I’d drawn Buck while we were in basic, of he and I as superheroes,” he let out a small chuckle. Tony could see the tears brimming his deep blue eyes. He wanted to wipe them away, make sure they didn’t fall. But he was glued to his seat. “I remember him saying, ‘Rogers, if you ever get out of this mess, promise me you’ll go back to that. I know ma’ would be furious, but you’ve got a talent. I want to read your comics. Follow your geeky little dreams.’ So I got a job and applied to school. And now I’m here.”

“You said you worked in my graphic design department?”

“Yeah, it’s where Ms. Potts found me.”

“And now you’re here.”

“Yep.”

They sat in silence. Steve watched the sun slip over the horizon over Tony’s shoulder. Tony seemed lost in thought, but soon Steve was pulled from the skyline by the small sounds of snoring. He smiled gently. He sat up quietly and picked up the sleeping man gently. He carried Tony to his room, and set him in the large, rumpled bed.  His face wasn’t creased with worry. He looked ragged, but a night of drinking hard liquor and playing chess will do that to any man, Steve thought. He’ll be okay.

He closed the door gently and went to clean up the remnants of their meal. He sat on the couch where Tony had sat, still warm from the genius’s body.

“Hey JARVIS,”

“Steve?”

“Do you think Tony would mind if I crashed here?”

“There are several guest suites on the next level, I doubt Master Stark would mind.”

“I want to stay close, in case he wakes up in a mood.”

“Good idea, sir,” JARVIS tinted the windows against the rising sun and Steve lay down on the couch. Thankfully it was large enough to accommodate his size. He thought of Tony’s hand in his hair. It’d felt deeply personal, incredibly unprofessional, and extremely right.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the first piece he’d ever done of the kind, he was more a traditional paint and canvas kind of guy, but Steve took a step back and looked at the mixed-media masterpiece on the board in front of him. The gold of the metal machine twisting into deep blood red at the ends of finger tips, tanned, scarred hands painted thickly on the canvas. It’d taken two ruined canvases, more gold leaf than he could afford, glue, and prayer. It was beautiful, it was painful, it was his masterpiece.

“Interesting,” his professor mused over his shoulder, his German accent seeming to give his words even more weight. Dr. Erskine was Steve’s favorite professor. “Vhere did zhe inspiration for zis come from?”

He blushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “A friend of mine. He’s an engineer. He’s got this insane genius, it’s like watching God build butterfly wings. Turning nothing into pure gold.”

“And zis is zhe piece you’d like to display at the final gallery show?”

“Definitely. I mean, if you think it’s good enough. I-I don’t know if it’ll fit with the other pieces, I mean.”

“Steven, anysing wis zis much passion should be shown to zhe world. Will zhe engineer in question be zere?”

“He uh-- well we’re not—I t’s not really—he wouldn’t---“

Dr. Erskine smiled knowingly, “He does not know he iz zhe subject of such works of art.”

Steve’s blush deepened, “Yeah.”

“Words are anozer form of art, Steven. I believe in you.”

“Thanks, Professor.”

* * *

 

“Your anxiety journal is not only complete, but you’ve been having less panic attacks,” the deep brown eyes peer at Tony from underneath the black hair, attractively graying at the temples.

“Steve’s good at remembering to fill it out, well making me fill it out,” he fiddles with his hands nervously. He likes his therapist, he’s an old friend. Dr. Bruce Banner is one of the only medical professionals Tony is comfortable with anymore.

“Steve is your new personal assistant?”

“Nanny,” Tony says annoyed.

“Do you like him; I mean you get along well?”

“Yeah, he’s a peach or whatever.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“Steve.”

“What’s wrong with Steve?”

“He didn’t come in today.”

“It says right here it’s his day off,” Bruce said, holding out a schedule and Pepper’s notes  about Steve.

“He doesn’t have days off.”

“Yes he does, he has every Sunday off, Tony. It’s right here,” he said pointing at the time table again.

“Sunday’s are when Steve makes a big breakfast and we watch movies, he doesn’t have it off.”

“Tony, I am telling you, he’s got it off. He must be coming over because he wants to.”

Tony didn’t say anything.

“How many people have you let into your apartment since this all started?”

“Seven.”

“Who are they?”

“You, Pepper, Rhodey, Obie, two assistants I threw out within twenty minutes, and Steve.”

“So Steve is really the first new person you’ve let into your life since the accident?”

“I guess so,” he shrugged.

“And you’re upset he’s not here today?”

“Yeah. We were going to watch Return of the King. He was overseas when it came out and never got to see it. We watched the other Lord of the Rings movies the last couple weeks.”

“What emotion exactly are you feeling?”

“Disappointment.”

“Why?”

“We had plans. I was counting on him to come over, looking forward to it I guess.”

“Are these dates?”

“What? Bruce, I know everyone wants to date Tony Stark, but Steve is my nanny.”

“Are you attracted to him?”

“You’ve seen the kid, who wouldn’t be?”

“Tony, you haven’t had a romantic or sexual relationship since this started.”

“Just don’t tell the press.”

“Tony,” he warned.

“What point are you trying to make, Bruce?”

“That maybe since this guy is spending is day off cooking you breakfast and watching ridiculously long movies with you he likes you.”

“Well when you put it like that,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, but he couldn’t stop the butterflies moshing in his stomach or the way the thought made him breathless.

* * *

 

It was well past dark when Steve shuffled into the penthouse baring Chinese food, bitten fingernails, and a question.

Tony hadn’t moved from his spot in the livingroom where he’d had his session with Bruce that afternoon. Lost in thought on the plush couch.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, but offering up the bag of food like a peace offering, “Sorry I’m late. I got caught up finishing something at school.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s okay. It’s not like you have to be here,” not moving from his position or bothering to look at the other man.

“Well I mean it’s pretty unproper to miss almost a full day of work.”

“Sunday is your day off,” Tony said flatly, looking into Steve’s eyes.

Steve felt his heart jump into throat, his stomach dropping to his shoes. He let out a small nervous laugh, “Oh, you noticed?”

“You’re not getting overtime,” he said bitterly.

“That’s not why I’m here, Tony.”

“Then why?”

Steve shrugged his broad shoulders, looked at the floor, he spoke quietly as if saying it outloud were an embarrassing secret “Don’t really have many friends, I guess. I just like spending time with you. I can go if you want.”

“But you still haven’t seen Return of the King.”

“There’s a video store near my apartment,” Steve shrugged again, more to steel himself than brush Tony off. He stayed looking at his feet, studying the fibers of the deep crème colored carpet, the stitching on his shoes, he didn’t want to see Tony’s face when he was thrown out.

“Please,” Tony said quietly in the same fashion as Steve, “don’t leave.” He offered a tired smile to the shocked face which suddenly flipped to brilliantly smiling. He thought he could be blinded by the shimmering blue eyes and lost in the curve of his smile.

“I brought you General Tso’s Chicken from Shang-Ping,” Steve said, sitting next to Tony on the couch, still smiling as he pulled the cartons out of the bag.

“There’s a reason I keep you around,” Tony laughed in appreciation.

They settled in and began the movie.

Tony was hyper aware of Steve’s body. The way you are when you’re on a first date, wanting to pick up on his body signals. He reveled in the way Steve’s emotions splayed across his face as the film progressed. And he certainly didn’t mind that Steve had relaxed on the couch, slipping closer to him. He could feel the warmth of his body, and smell paint and soap and Steve’s personal bouquet.

“Wow, that was definitely worth the wait,” he said after the movie was over.

“What was your favorite movie?” Tony asked.

“I like Two Towers. Helms Deep and stuff. It reminds me of serving. You?”

“Fellowship. They’re all happy.”

“They’re all happy at the end of Return of the King, though.”

“But it’s not the same kind of happiness. It’s darker, scarred, faker. They know the horrors of the world now.”

“It’s a deeper happiness then, because they can move past the trauma and enjoy things anyways,” Steve said softly, sensing they were no longer talking about the movie.

“Well, I’m glad you liked it,” Tony said, rather huffily.

“Thanks for watching it with me.”

“Steve?”

“I don’t have friends either.”

“Sure you do!” He said cheerily, “Pepper, Doctor Banner, Coronel Rhodes, JARVIS.”

“They’re more like appendages, not really friends.”

 “Sorry,” Steve wasn’t sure what to say.

“You’re my friend.”

“I’m glad,” Steve said genuinely, cleaning up their dinner to diffuse his nervousness.

“What were you working on so late?” Tony said out of nowhere. Steve liked it, while most people hated it. Tony could discuss things at length, but often he had too much rattling around his head to do that, Steve understood.

“A project for our final gallery showing. A mixed media piece.”

“Can I see it?”

“I don’t have a picture.”

“Can I come to the show?”

“Ye-wait-what? Tony, that would require leaving the building.”

“Not if we hold it in the Stark Affiliate Gallary on the 36th floor.”

“I should be more surprised, but I’m not. But really, you don’t have to do that. I mean it’s not that big a deal.”

“I’ll call the university Art Department head tomorrow and make plans. Well actually you or Pepper will call.”

Steve laughed nervously.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to see it. I want to see what you are surrounded by every day.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a part of my life, I want to be a part of yours more.”

“Thank you, I think?” Steve wasn’t sure how to feel suddenly.

Tony felt like word vomiting, he felt like actually vomiting, “you’re just really cool and I like you and are these dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“This,” he flailed his arms trying to articulate, “The movies and food on days off, dates, are they?”

“I—uh, I don’t—they are just hanging out?”

“Do you think I could be your date to the gallery show? I mean I know your morality meter is probably about to blow up about dating your boss and you probably don’t even like guys or want me to see your art and I know I’m like practically an old man compared to you but I mean it’d be pretty rad, I’d really like to and I think we’d have a good time and—“

“Tony!” He said laughing, “Breathe,” he commanded gently. Tony was right, dating your boss, the person you are taking care of, was seriously fucking with Steve’s head. But he saw the nervous smile on Tony’s face, those deep chestnut eyes framed by lux eyelashes and he didn’t care. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Tony’s surprised lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he got up and headed for the elevator.

“Is that a yes?”

Steve just smiled over his shoulder at the other man, “Goodnight, Tony.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp*  
> thoughts, feelings, concerns, suggestions?


	4. Chapter 4

He shook his limbs, trying to steady himself. In the mirror was the man the media knew, the world knew. Ever confident, handsome, debonair Tony Stark. But in his head he was anxious, excited, and scared. He’d done press conferences, meetings, and the like since the accident but those were all events he had total control over. This he only had some control over.

“Sir,” JARVIS’s voice piped in, breaking his thoughts, “the first guests have started to arrive in the gallery, and Captain Rogers is in the elevator on his way up.”

“Thanks, Jay.”

He straightened his tie.  What if tonight went horrible? What if he embarrassed Steve and he left? What if Steve’s whole righteous morality thing kicked in and he realized he was dating his boss?  What if the students hated the gallery? What if it was too much for him and he had a breakdown? What if Steve realized how broken he was? What if the security wasn’t good enough? What if he wasn’t ready for this?

He heard the elevator ding open and walked out to greet Steve. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the former soldier. He was wearing a form fitting black suit, no tie or anything. He looked so casually put together and effortlessly sexy that Tony’s mouth watered at the sight. He held a bouquet of gold paint splattered red roses accented with gold dipped paint brushes in his hand.

“I hope it’s not too cheesy, but I got you these. They uh, kind of match my piece for the show. A thank you,” Steve held them out, a blush rising in his cheeks. Tony never got tired of watching the blood ting his face, it was so unabashedly honest.

“They’re almost as beautiful as you are this evening,” Tony said, taking them and looking Steve in the eye. Steve’s blush deepened. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Thank you, I mean you’re hosting the show.”

“It’s my pleasure, really.”

“Are you doing okay, I mean with all the people and anticipation and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Tony said distractedly, pulling out a vase for the flowers.

“Really?”

“No, I’m scared shitless if we’re being honest,” he laughed nervously.

“Would it help if I said you looked dapper?”

“Do people even use the word ‘dapper’ anymore?”

Steve shrugged, a half smile painted on his face, “I do, and Tony,” he said putting a soothingly large hand on Tony’s shoulder, “I’m here for you. We can leave whenever you want, okay?”

He smiled tiredly, “Yeah, okay. Thanks. Ready?”

“Sure,” he held out a crooked arm for Tony, who looped his arm through it.

* * *

 

The gallery was filled with students, professors and family. Drinks in hand, laughter on lips, and art covering every available surface. Dr. Erskine stepped up on a small platform and a hush fell over the room.

“I vould like to zank you all for coming tonight, our final show of zhe season. And I would also like to zank Tony Stark for offering up his gorgeous gallery. To my students, to my friends, ze support of their family and friends here tonight means zhe world. Zank you, and enjoy!” polite applause filled the room as Erskine stepped down.

“Steve!” A voice rang and both Steve and Tony turned in the direction. Suddenly arms were wrapped around Steve and Tony wasn’t sure how to react, a short, sandy blonde man was hugging his date and the two were laughing and exchanging greetings. “Oh man, this all just looks incredible. And speaking of incredible, your piece! Holy shit, man!”

“Thanks, Clint,” Steve laughed. “I can’t wait to see yours.” Clint’s girlfriend slid up soundlessly next to them, “Natasha, you look as lovely and deadly as ever tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said shortly. Steve had known Natasha long enough to know she just wasn’t much for words and meant nothing by her tone. Clint gave him a raised eyebrow and gestured to Tony.

“Right! Sorry, just so much going on,” He wrapped his arm around Tony who looked a little nervous to the trained eye, “This is Tony Stark, my date.” He smiled at Tony fondly and Tony almost felt himself blush. “Tony this is Clint, he’s a friend and neighbor actually. He designed the gorgeous Apollo statue.”

“Mister Stark,” Clint held out his hand, and Tony shook it firmly, a little proud of himself for not shying away or making an excuse not to touch the stranger. If Steve trusted him, he was okay. “It’s a pleasure to meet the guy Steve won’t shut up about.”

Tony laughed and Steve blushed, “Hopefully you’re not sick of me already.”

“This,” Steve interrupted, “Is Natasha. Clint’s girlfriend and one of the finest ballerina-come-special agents in the northern hemisphere.”

“I believe it,” Tony said giving the woman a once over and shaking her delicate but strong hand. “The Russian Ballet, Swan Lake tour in 2000. You were the prima ballerina, I believe.”

She smiled, “You’ve seen me dance?”

“It was certainly an experience. A little sad to see you’ve retired from it.”

“Well, someone had to take care of this mess,” She said smiling affectionately at Clint who kissed her on the forehead.

Tony shifted uncomfortably; it’d been a long time since he’d seen a public display of affection like that.

“It was great meeting you guys, I hope you enjoy the gallery. It’s an honor to host such fine young artists as Clint and Steve,” he said before looking at Steve, trying to beam into his head that he was ready to move on.

“Thanks,” Clint said before looking back to Steve, “I’ll see you later, big guy.”

They said their goodbyes and Tony and Steve walked slowly around the gallery. Just as they were about to turn the corner to Steve’s painting he was pulled away by another student, “I’m so sorry,” he assured Tony as he was being yanked away. Tony drained his champagne glass and walked on.

It was extravagant. It was sharp and dark. It was shining and passionate. The gold, twisted metal looked like machinery. The painted hands reminded him of his own as they bled into the canvas, into the gold.

“Iz astonishing, isn’t it?” Dr. Erskine said, stepping into place beside Tony.

“It’s…Beyond words,” It was a rare moment when Tony Stark was speechless.

“Steve is one of the schools most talented artists.”

“I can see.” He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he knew that was against the rules. His fingers still twitched at the thought.

“Tony Stark, zhe famous engineer,” Erskine said matter of factly.

“The one and only,” Tony said, only half paying attention as he leaned in close to examine the way the painted blood and real metal transitioned so seamlessly together. Tony wasn’t the genius tonight, Steve was.

“Steve said his inspiration for this piece waz an engineer he knew. I vatched him slave over it for veeks. I never imagined it would be zhe Tony Stark.”

That got Tony’s attention, “He what?”

Erskine quirked a smile, “It vas a pleasure meeting you, Mister Stark.” And left without another word.

Tony stared incredulously at the artwork, the gold and red matched the flowers Steve had given him.

“Hey, there you are,” Steve said, putting his hand on Tony’s lower back and sliding up next to him. Suddenly he realized where they were standing. “Oh, yeah. This,” he laughed.

“Steve,” He said breathlessly, “it’s amazing. It’s astounding. It’s brilliant. You’re like fucking Michael Angelo or something.”

“Talk about hyperbole,” Steve laughed. “But thank you, that means a lot to me.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, still unable to take his eyes off of it.

“I’m proud of you too, Tony. You’re doing great tonight.”

Tony finally tore his eyes away, bringing them to the blue eyes of the taller man, “Those are my hands, aren’t they?” Satisfaction pooled in his stomach as color pooled in Steve’s cheeks.

“Well I—I mean, you’re just so—I couldn’t help but be—yeah, they are,” he fumbled.

“You were inspired by me?”

“Do you have any idea what watching you were is like? Tony you created sustainable energy out of scraps, you’ve build advanced robots out of nothing, you build streamlined engines in an afternoon. Everything you touch turns to gold.”

Tony couldn’t take his eyes off of Steve now. “Can we get out of here?” he said suddenly.

“Yeah, yes, please.”

He took Tony’s hand and led him to the elevator.

The silence inside was deafening. Steve could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He’d said too much. He’d made Tony anxious. He’d ruined the evening. Suddenly a hand on his chest snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Steve,” Tony said, voice rumbling in a way that made the soldier’s mouth water.  The hand slipped around the back of his neck, and Tony’s lips were pressed to his. He tasted of champagne and need and want.

Tony pushed the larger man against the wall, suddenly all those sexual suggestions he used to throw Steve off his game in the first weeks seemed like a really good idea. His tongue flicked out, teasing the willing lips under his. Another tongue met his in hot bliss. His leg shifted between the muscular thighs, and he rocked against his date. Steve let out a slight gasp, and Tony nipped at his lower lip. His hands snaked up to unbutton Steve’s crisp white shirt, but suddenly a hand stopped him and the delicious lips were gone.

“Tony, please,” he said breathlessly

“I intend to,” he said coyly.

“No, Tony. We have to stop.”

The engineer took a step back, this had never happened to him. “Excuse me?”

“This is, I don’t know. It’s wrong.”

“So you can kiss me, and take me on a date, but I can’t kiss you?” He could feel anger seeping into his blood

“Tony, I—“

“You what, Steve? Just wanted to show me off to your friends?”

“No! Tony, No! I—“

The elevator dinged open and Tony hurried out, Steve followed.

“Tony, please. I shouldn’t have accepted the date to begin with, you’re my boss!”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

“It should have.”

“It’s not going to change anything.”

“Except that I’m being paid to take care of you, I’m a caretaker, not a whore,” he said quietly, ashamed.

“You come over on your days off!”

“And I shouldn’t! This is wrong!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Steve. Get over yourself and get off your high horse. You’re allowed to have a little fun, you’re allowed to fuck people,” he was yelling now. If there was one thing Tony Stark hated universally, it was mixed signals.

“Tony,” Steve said, trying to calm him, “please, listen. I don’t want to just fuck you, I don’t want to take advantage of you, I don’t want to abuse your trust.”

“I’m perfectly willing, you realize. Casual sex is my thing, I’m Tony Fucking Stark.”

“Yeah, well I’m not willing and it’s not mine,” Steve said. His face was stoic, but he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. “Goodnight, Tony.” He said curtly before turning on his heel and leaving. Tony could see the defeated slump in his shoulder.

“What the fuck ever,” he said, making his way towards the bar. It wasn’t the rejection that made him open the bottle, and it wasn’t the left over nerves from the Gallery show that guzzeled it down. It was the thought that Steve wasn’t coming back that made him get black out drunk, as if he could poison the night to death. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's crisis is about to hit rock bottom. Apologies for all the broken hearts and feelings in advance.

This was a monumentally bad idea. This was the worst idea. Was it worse than fucking your boss? Steve wasn’t sure, but this made more sense, right? He walked up to the green door, a quaint, homey wreath hanging in the middle. His fist hovered over the door for a moment. No, he should leave. He knocked anyways.

“Just a second!” A voice from inside called. It was late, he should go. Her voice sounded like home, like heaven, like something familiar. But it stung, deep down where he tried to push feelings for Tony, and responsibility for what happened to Bucky. A part of something he shouldn’t want anymore, something no longer of his life.

The door opened, and there she was. Silk robe clutched around her body, brown hair spilling onto her shoulders, last vestiges of lipstick fading from her lips. Her welcoming smile wilted from her face in shock.

“St-Steve? Is that—are you—this is a dream.”

“Hey, Peg. Been a while,” he shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

“You’re not real. You’re in a coma,” She said to herself.

“I woke up.”

“People just don’t wake up from comas,” she shook her head, her hair shined in the dim light.

“I did,” he took a half step forward. “Peggy, I’m awake. I’m here.”

A delicate hand reached out and gently touched his chest. He could feel the heat of her hand through his shirt on the cool night, his heart sped up. Clearly, she felt it too, her eyes widened.

“Oh my god,” her voice was barely a whisper.

“I should have come sooner,” he said.

“How long--?”

“Over a year.”

Suddenly a stinging hand met his face, “Damn straight you should have come sooner!” she spat. “Come out of the cold, I’ll make you tea. We have things…things to talk about.”

He took in the tidy home. It looked like the kind of place they’d always talked about. He followed her into the old kitchen. White tiles and wooden cabinets. She pulled down the old tea kettle. Her mother’s from when she was growing up. He resisted the urge to touch the silk clad curves of her body, something so tantalizingly familiar, something so ancient now.

“You still have that old thing?”

“You of all people appreciate sentiment Steve, I don’t know why you’re surprised.”

“I would have thought he’d buy you a new one,” he said. The glint of her ring catching the light. He fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“You already know then,” she sighed. It sounded a little relieved, and a little annoyed.

“Yeah. It’s okay, you know.”

Her shoulders were tight as she grabbed mugs and tea bags.

“I don’t blame you,” he continued. “Roger seems like a nice guy. Now you’re Mrs. Roger Kent instead of Mrs. Steve Rogers. Which is a little weird, but hey. If you’re happy that’s all that matters, Peg.”

“Why did you wait until now?”

The tea kettle whistled and he didn’t answer. She poured the steaming water and came to the table with the mugs. She looked expectant, but he didn’t have an answer. At least not one he could give her straight.

“Needed a little bit of old comfort. Just wanted to see how you were doing, that’s all.”

He couldn’t tell her that it was because he hadn’t hardly slept in two weeks. Hadn’t turned on his phone since the fight with Tony. Hadn’t gone to work. Winter break started yesterday, so he couldn’t even hang out at the school anymore. He didn’t want to be in his apartment. Too lonely. Clint just asked about Tony. He could go out drinking with Thor again, but that had consumed most of his other nights lately.

“What else do you know about my life now?”

“You’re married, you’re a recruiter for the elite forces now. Your husband is an ex-navy seal. Which I would have never expected, really a sailor?”

“’Ex’ being the key there. He’s a personal trainer and life coach now.”

“What’s a life coach?”

“A crock of shit,” she said, smiling at her tea. He smiled at her.

“Shouldn’t he be home?”

“He’s—we’re kind of taking a break. Trying to figure things out.”

“Oh,” he wasn’t sure what to say. Just wipe the sadness off her face. “I’m sorry.”

“It happens.”

They sipped their tea in awkward silence for a moment, he watched her every move, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Finally she spoke.

“What are you up to now? I would have heard if you re-enlisted. I do see those tests worked out well though.”

“I tried. Said tests benched me. Now I’m going to art school.”

She finally looked at him, smiling genuinely, “Bucky would be proud.”

“Yeah.”

“So any new ladies in your life?”

“Comas don’t leave a lot of room for dating, Peg.”

“But you said you’ve been awake?”

“I had a lot of rebuilding to do when I woke up. Had to find a job, and a place. First thing I did was check up on you, it was kind of rough.”

“Sorry—I’m so-“

“Peggy,” He took her hand gently in his, fingers wrapping around her smaller hand safely, “It’s okay. I wasn’t supposed to wake up. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

She smiled sadly at him, pulling her hand out of his, but entwining their fingers together. An old familiar habit.

“But you’re not happy, are you?” he frowned.

“I’d be happier if I wasn’t  on the verge of divorce.”

“You’ll fix things, Peg. He’s a great guy if you married him. I mean we all have our rough patches. Remember that time you though Carol and I—and you transferred to another base for like six months.”

She laughed, “Yeah. I remember.”

“It’ll be okay,” he kissed the back of her hand soothingly.

“Steve,” she said breathlessly, “what if now that you’re here, I don’t really care if I fix things with Roger.”

“Peggy, I don’t think—“

This is what he knew would happen, somewhere deep inside of him. This is what he wanted to happen. He could drink himself to sleep every night, “making his ancestors proud,” as Thor would say. But he wanted this. He wanted his life back. He wanted things simple. He wanted Peggy and military routine. He didn’t want to have feelings for Tony Stark. He wanted the life he’d planned, not this new one thrust into his lap without instructions.

But she’s married, he thought to himself as her ringed hand pulled the tie on her robe. The silk fell away to reveal one of those lace bra and panty sets she’d always been so fond of. The peach, sheer fabric melting into her skin as she crawls into his lap. The familiar scent of rose soap and English tea on her as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Doesn’t matter,” she whispers hotly in his ear. Those plush lips are kissing across his jaw, and his hands are finding their place on her perfect hips. “Wanted this since you went under,” she mumbles into his lips. They move together with precision. She tastes sweet and comforting.  His thumbs are hooking under the hips of her panties as she’s grinding down on him.

“Bedroom?” he manages to gasp as she bites down his neck.

“upstairs,” she pants into his skin.

He’s picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder, and she’s laughing, and he’s charging up the stairs, wondering if Tony would object to being carried like this. No, he’s not a part of this. He passes Peggy and Roger’s wedding picture on a decorative table and turns it towards the wall.

He’s throwing her down on the plush bed. Her bed reminds him of Tony’s bed. It’s big. For her and her husband, he thinks. He kisses down her smooth skin and pulls her panties down. And he’s tasting her and she’s moaning with her hand in his hair. He thinks of that time when Tony was drunk and ran a hand through his hair. His felt better. Soon she’s coming on his mouth and he’s flipping her over and pushing into her. It feels so good, it’s been so long. He sees a picture of Peggy and her husband on the dresser and just pounds into harder. She’s moaning out “Rogers,” or is it “Roger?” He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care at this point. He’s hurtling towards climax and she’s coming again. He pulls out, cumming over her ass before they both collapse on the bed.

Silently she gets up and takes a shower. When she comes out wrapped in a towel followed by a cloud of steam he isn’t surprised when she says “This was wrong,” and “you should probably go.”

He picks up his clothes and puts them on as she watches from the bathroom doorway.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I just—I guess I married him for a reason.”

“Don’t worry about it, Peg,” he says to the dark as he pulls the thin t-shirt over his head. On his way out he rights their wedding picture.

It’s cold. He left his jacket at the bar last night. It doesn’t matter. He just walks without direction.  So not only is he pretty sure he’s in love with his boss, he just slept with his now married ex-fiancé, after spending the last two weeks drinking and making out with a guy named after a norse god who might as well be one because he certainly looks like one.

He turns on his phone for the first time in weeks.

20 messages.

The first ten are Pepper begging Steve to come back. Seven are JARVIS asking Steve to come check up on Tony because the AI is worried. Two are junk phone calls. But the last one is Tony, from yesterday.

“I bought your stupid gorgeous piece from the show and hung it in my workshop. It’s making me miss you in the kind of way where I’m considering burning it. I’m sorry. I won’t try to kiss your stupid handsome face or anything if you come back. I miss having your well-muscled ass bossing me around.” There was a pause, and in a choked voice “Please, Steve.”

When Steve takes the phone away from his face, he’s at Stark Towers.

And it’s 3am. And his key card still works.

 And suddenly he’s in the private elevator on his way to the penthouse.

And when the door opens, there’s Tony waiting for him.

It’s a Mexican Stand-off of emotions. Tony’s hands are wrapped around a bottle and scotch glass. Steve’s  trying to cover up the bite marks on his neck.

“I don’t know which of looks worse,” Tony remarks bluntly. After a moment he waves Steve in, “You do, actually.”

Steve follows wordlessly.

Tony leads them to the couch in the living room. Pours Steve a drink in the glass, and he just takes a swig out of the bottle.

It’s a comfortable silence. But it needs to be broken.

“What do we do now?” Steve asks after he finishes his drink. Tony pours him another.

“You’re the tactician, Captain.”

He takes another swallow of the scotch he could never afford, “this seems good for now.”

“Agreed.”

“Did you burn my painting?”

“No.”

“I missed you too.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHRISTMAS CHAPTER.

They’d fallen asleep on the couch, bottle empty on the floor. They hadn’t said much. Nothing, really. But the air seemed clearer. Not crystalline, but not LA-smog-bad anymore. Tony could hear Steve’s steady breathing next to him. A warm leg pressed against his. His eyes felt tired and scratchy as he opened them, but the sight was worth it. The unguarded expression. Blond hair tousled and a little greasy. Stubble budding on a chin balanced awkwardly on an arm attached to a body slumped in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. But it comforted him, knowing that Steve was there. And that he planned to come back. Steve started to rouse, and Tony stretched like he too had just woken up and hadn’t been watching the other man in rapt silence.

“Morning,” Tony grumbled, “want some coffee?”

“Gotta’ go. Holiday volunteer stuff downtown,” Steve said standing and stretching, exposing a band of golden skin under the hem of his t-shirt.

“Right, right.” Holiday?

Steve shuffled towards the door, before stepping into the elevator turned back to the man on the couch, “Happy Holidays. I don’t figure you’re much the Christmas sort, but I hope you have a good one.” He smiled that self-depreciating sad half smile and shrugged as the door shut.

“JARVIS, what day is it?”

“December 23rd, Sir. I believe Steve is referring to Christmas Eve and Day tomorrow and the 25th.”

“Yeah I get that now. Did I get presents for people?”

“You bought Ms. Potts a Jacuzzi, Happy a week vacation in Disneyland with his family, and the SI employees all got generous holiday bonuses.”

“Thanks, Jay. What about Steve?”

“Nothing has been planned for Mr. Rogers, Sir.”

“Well shit. I better get to work. Can you have whatever personal shopper that answers their phone today to go to the best art store in the cities and get something of everything.”

“Right away, Sir.”

“Awesome.”

He picked his body up off the couch, knees creaking and feeling a bit like he’d been used and put away wet, and not in the pleasant way.

The hot shower loosened his muscles and refreshed him. He couldn’t get the image of Steve on the couch of his mind. The smooth skin under his shirt. The kiss in the elevator. He could feel his dick growing hard under the spray. But jacking off to your hot-and-genuinely-sweet-but-total-hands-off-assistant, especially when he’d expressly said nothing sexual or romantic could ever happen between them, made him feel ashamed

No one had ever made Tony Stark feel ashamed. Guilty, upset, maybe even sorry. But shame was a new feeling. It sobered him up as he rinsed himself and stepped into the cool air.

“Sir, Marilee is here with the art supplies,” JARVIS said as Tony dressed himself.

“Have them left in the living room and tell her kindly to get the fuck out. And have Dummy and Butterfingers move everything from the West corner of the lab, I want it completely open and I don’t care where it goes. It’s all old.”

“Sir.”

He waited until he was sure she was gone before going out to gather the supplies and go down to his lab. Dummy and Butterfingers had gotten it clear without incident (that he could see), so he set the bags in the center, before going to his main workbench.

“Jarvis, how much of that 3/4 chrome tubing do I have on hand?”

“400 units, sir.”

“Perfect,” he said, his hands already manipulating images in the air. “Find someone, I don’t care if we have to pay them quintuple what this will cost to make these and have them delivered tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And do you know if Steve has any Christmas plans?”

“Not that he’s registered with me, Sir. But my records show no living family.”

“Call him and tell him he’s invited for Christmas Eve dinner. Then I want blackout for the next 16 hours at least.”

“Yes, sir.”

A robot came with a cart of the shining tubing he’d been using to modify some things on his personal cars, but now he had a better idea.

“Time to warm up the welding torch,” he said to no one in particular, running his hands over the smooth metal in his hands before he set to work.

The next twenty-four hours were a haze of caffeine, shining chrome, research, and art supplies. Welding, stitching, setting up, and assembling were starting to take a toll on his beaten up hands.

“Jay, is Steve coming for dinner?” he said, standing back and admiring his work.

“Yes, sir. I have already found an available chef. I do suggest getting some sleep before Mr. Rogers comes for dinner at 7pm.”

“Yeah, sleep. Right.”

He couldn’t remember getting to his bed, or cleaning the grease and paint from his hands and hair, or setting out clothes for that evening. But when JARVIS’s alarm clock chimed him awake at 6:30pm, all of that had been done. He supposed he’d woken up to much weirder things before.

As he buttoned up the cranberry red silk shirt, suddenly he realized how nervous he was? What if Steve thought the gift was too much? What if the chef made something stupid for dinner? What if Steve didn’t show up at all? What if he hated the gift? What if he loved the gift? What if Tony loved Steve?

“Sir, Mr. Rogers has entered the building and is on his way up.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Things couldn’t get much worse than they had been. Tonight would be alright. Hopefully.

He strutted out into the living room just as Steve stepped out of the elevator, “Hello there, Captain.”

Steve had his hands shoved in his pockets. His cheeks and ears rosy from the cold. But there was a definite smile on his face, “Hey. Thanks for inviting me over, I didn’t really have anyone to spend it with.”

“Neither did I,” Tony said, he motioned for Steve to follow him to the dining room, where the table had been set and the food was ready, “I figured we could spend it together.”

“Whoa, all of this, just for us?”

“I’ve seen you eat, you’re like a high school football team alone.”

Steve chuckled, “Well, I suppose you have a point.”

Tony pulled out a chair for Steve, who’s already pink cheeks flushed more. He sat down across from Steve, instead of at the head of the table. He wasn’t above Steve, he was an equal, if anything Steve was superior to him and he wanted to show Steve that.

Dinner was devoured with polite conversation about Steve’s previous day’s volunteer work, and the Stark Industries Annual Christmas Charity Give Away, this year promoting literacy in rural and urban kids.

After both men were thoroughly stuffed, Steve cleared the table, much to Tony’s dismay.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know, but you paid for dinner, it’s the least I can do.”

“It’s Christmas eve, stop that, sit down.”

“Someone has to do these dishes, Tony. Let me just put away the left overs and throw them in the washer.”

“Left overs are gross, you take them.”

“Fine by me.”

Tony silently helped Steve load the dish washer and wrap up the food.

“I have something for you,” Steve said quietly as they finished up.

“Why?”

“Because it’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, but you don’t owe me anything,” Tony was flabbergasted.

“No, you’re right, I don’t,” Steve said with a shrug, “But I wanetd to get you something.”

He pulled out a small booklet from his back pocket and handed it to Tony, “It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

Tony took it; it was heavier than it looked. The outside was plain brown, and he could see it didn’t have normal pages, so he opened it carefully. The pages bloomed into a carefully cut paper tree. Flowers painted on the delicate leaves, and two figures sitting underneath it. He’d created plenty of mechanical and electronic masterpieces, but this was pure art and genius.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed. The paper leaves fluttered under his breath.

“I figured you probably haven’t had a chance to sit under a tree in quite a while, so uh, that’s you,” he said pointing to one of the figures.

“Who’s the other one?”

“Well, uh, me?”

“I have something for you too,” Tony said, suddenly grabbing Steve’s hand and pulling him towards the workshop.

“But I thought—“

“I said you don’t owe me anything, I owe you a lot.”

“No you don-“

“Steve, shut up and let me give you your present,” he said, not letting go of Steve’s hand as he punched in the lab access code. “Close your eyes,” Steve looked a little hesitant. “Please, trust me.”

Steve obeyed and Tony led him through the lab, “now open them.”

The first thing he saw was the easel. Chrome, smooth, with a red, rolling tool chest of accessories in labeled drawers. Markers, paints, pastels, crayons, pencils, colored pencils. His eyes wondered to the work table, the height could be lowered or raised with a button. Then to the large plush red couch, with blue pipping and chrome bars holding the soft and expensive looking cushions in place.

“is—is this for me?”

“Yeah, well I mean you always just sit hunched at my desk, I figured I’d make you your own space to like do your thing or whatever. But still be, y’know, around.” Tony’s fingers fumbled nervously as Steve approached the workplace.

“it’s all custom.”

“Yeah, well I couldn’t sleep.”

“Tony,” Steve’s voice was low in disapproval.

“but I did get some, after I finished. But do you like it?”

“It’s incredible,” he said, still circling tools and equipment. After a few more minutes he was back at Tony, “Thank you,” he said before unexpectedly wrapping his arms around the billionaire’s neck.

Tony hugged him back, “I just want you to feel like you belong here.”

Steve pulled back, “I fucked up before.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leaving.”

“Well, I mean it wasn’t really your f-“

Steve’s lips were on his, kissing him firmly but still somehow gently. “Fuck professional,” he mumbled against Tony’s lips.

“We can do that,” tony said wryly.

Steve placed a small kiss on his lips again. “Don’t ruin the tender moment.”

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“Merry Christmas, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry for the lack of updates. I was busy with finals, then having early Christmas with my family because I work throughout Christmas, and having end of the world shenanigans.  
> Not my best chapter, but enjoy!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness gracious, my darlinghearts. Sorry for the belated update. My winter break has been less of a break and more of a workallthetimestressout break and govisityourboyfriend break. but here we go! I hope I made it up to you with this chapter ;) and I'll try to not make you wait so long again

“Steve! How nice to see you,” Pepper’s warm smile welcomed him as she stood behind her desk, he smiled half-heartedly back but his face was solemn. Her smile wilted, “Is everything with Tony alright?”

“Yes, Ms. Potts, it’s fine, but I need to talk to you about my employment.” He frowned a little, she motioned to a chair for him to sit, and waited patiently for the pensive man to relay his woes.

He looked at his hands. There was paint staining the bandage where he’d cut himself with a sculpting tool. He’d been working on wooden and metal piece Tony commissioned him to make for the lobby of Stark tower. He was an artist now. He still had school to finish, and intended to see that through. But Tony’s purchase of his work, and the subsequent demand for his work following the trend setting Stark’s approval also came with many interested buyers. Tony let him turn the gallery from his class’s showing to begin show casing and selling Steve’s and his friend’s art. Steve was really proud of the work his friends like Clint did. Natasha had made a new friend too, named Maria Hill, whose photography was stunning, with the addition of Natasha modeling made the photographs a hot commodity in the gallery. Steve was in charge, but 100% of the profits from the works went to their creators. He was making money. Not a lot, but now that he and Tony had begun a relationship, or at least that’s what lingering kisses and cuddling on the couch meant to Steve, he couldn’t accept being paid for his time spent with the genius. He needed a new bandage, he thought as he picked the flaking paint out from under his nail nervously.

“Tony and I—well, I don’t think—Ms. Potts, I’m having an inappropriate relation with Mr. Stark.” He said bluntly, crimson creeping up his cheeks.

Pepper’s worried face flashed surprised for a moment, before taking on a compassionate but amused look, “Steve, you’re both consenting adults, that’s okay. You’re not going to be fired.”

“That’s not the issue, Ms. Potts.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I cannot remain on the payroll for the time I spend with Tony. It feels like I’m just using him. I’m resigning as his personal assistant in lieu of taking up position of his boyfriend.”

She smiled at him, it was a tired smile with a hint of something Steve couldn’t suss out. “Steve, I’ve seen your financial situation…I know you can’t afford your apartment on your army pension alone. Not to mention other necessities. You need this job.”

“I’ve got the gallery, Ms. Potts.”

“You know as well as I do how fickle the art market is. You can’t count on that…Steve, please reconsider,” she pleaded.

“I’m not being paid for my relationship, ma’am.”

“Think of it as an allowance then—“

Steve didn’t want to be rude, but he couldn’t contain himself anymore. “Ms. Potts, I am not a kept man, I am not a whore, nor am I someone who needs to be paid to stay with Tony. He’s my best friend and my boyfriend, and I’m a grown man who can provide for himself.”

“Tony wants—“

“Tony want’s people not to abuse his trust and charity, and that’s what I’m doing Ms. Potts. I quit.”

He stood out of the plush chair and walked out of the office, where the stunned CEO sat unsure of the next step for the first time in her life.

He went directly to the workshop, Tony’s workshop, his workshop, their workshop. The sculpture he’d been working on sat lowered on the workbench, wooden flames, that when seen straight on, reveled an “S.” the next step was to scorch the wood and craft metal caps for the tips of the flames, making them taller, sharper, sleeker, then make the transition from wood to metal seamless. Old and new combined to make something beautiful. Simple things, wood and metal, to make intricate designs. Something so perfectly Stark Industries that Tony had practically had a heart attack with happiness when Steve showed him the initial design.

“JARVIS, turn on ventilation and prepare for woodsmoke,” he said as he picked up a blow torch and set it ablaze.

* * *

 

“Incoming call from Ms. Potts, Sir.” The smooth voice roused Tony from the last vestiges of sleep.

“What’s th’ time?” he asked, face still shoved in a pillow

“It’s 3pm, Sir.”

“Accept the call…Pepper, hey what’s up?”

“Steve quit.”

Tony was instantly awake, his body shot up in bed, “He what?!”

“He came into my office this morning babbling on about not being a whore or a kept man and quit and then left.”

“Pepper, this is the worst joke ever,” Tony groaned.

“Tony, I’m being serious. He just quit and left. He said he refused to work for you. What happened?”

“I have no idea. The only thing I know is that everything is horrible and I have to go.”

“Tony don’t you dare go to the liqou-“

“I have to go, Pep.” He ended the call and moved out of bed and towards the liquor cabinet.

“Sir, before you start on a path of self-destruction for the afternoon I’d like to inform you that Captain Rogers is in the lab working on his sculpture.”

He stopped mid-step, “Oh.”

“I suggest talking to him about the turn of events instead of causing further distress to your liver.”

“Thanks, Jay.”

He turned his back to the cabinet and made his way to the lab.

Steve was covered in soot, sweating from the heat of the torch. The bottom of the wooden flames were charred black, but out of the blackness came somehow darker scorch marks in the design of delicate circuitry. Tony realized he must have been down there for hours already.

“Steve?”

Steve’s face lit up, he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, but only succeeded in smearing  more soot across his features. “Hey there, handsome.”

“Is everything okay?” Tony asked confused, as Steve walked over to embrace him.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Pepper called and said you quit and stormed out of her office.”

“Oh, yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously and blushed a little, still obvious on his heated face. “Tony, I quit my job as your assistant, not my position as your boyfriend.” He took the billionaires hands in his warm, dirtied hands.

“I don’t understand?”

“It doesn’t feel fair getting paid to be with you. I just want to be with you, I don’t care about the money.”

“But what about your bills and stuff?”

“I’ve got the Gallery, and my pension and stuff. Maybe I wont be able to afford a new bike anytime soon, but I don’t need anything.”

“Do you need a new bike, I can make you on-“

“Tony, that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

He leaned forward and kissed Tony. It was delicate, but Tony could feel the passion on the chaste press of lips. “That’s what I mean.”

“You’re a mess, Rogers,” he smiled at the blonde man before him.

Steve lifted a sooty hand and dragged a finger down the bridge of Tony’s nose gently. “Now you are too.”

“I think I was before, but okay, I can get into body painting.”

“I can get into a shower with you, was the thought,” Steve grinned wolfishly and nuzzled into Tony’s neck, nipping gently. His hands found purchase on the pajama clad hips of his lover.

“That’s a thought I’d love to entertain,” he said, pulling Steve gently towards the door of the lab.

The path to Tony’s in suite bathroom was littered with their shed clothes, the shower billowing steam already waiting for them. Steve’s blackened hand prints stained Tony’s body like bruises, but it delighted him.  He pushed Steve ahead of him gently into the large shower stall.

“I’m gonna get you clean, just to mess you up again,” he mumbled as he watched the charcoal melt off of Steve’s body. Steve’s smile was stuck at an odd perfection between bashful and lustful. He just grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him into the warm stream as well.

“This is exactly why I quit,” Steve said, as he poured shower gel into has hands and lathered it across Tony’s chest.

“You didn’t want to get paid for this?” Tony panted as Steve’s hands worked lower and gripped his ass hard.

“Nope,” he whispered and kissed behind Tony’s ear. “It’s not my job to do this, it’s my pleasure,” he said as his slick hand wrapped around Tony’s hard dick.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Mmm, later.” He said, his hand pumping languidly and firmly.

“Let me clean you, let me touch you,” Tony begged, voice barely heard over the pouring water. Steve removed his hand, and leaned against the cool tile as Tony’s soapy hands explored his body. “you’re a fucking work of art,” he said, licking water droplets from the soldier. He worked his way down Steve’s body. Kissing the tip of his large, leaking cock before sucking it into his mouth. The soldier groaned, head falling back and hitting the tiles, knees shaking slightly. His hand stroked through Tony’s wet hair as Tony bobbed back and forth. Suddenly the perfect warmth around his cock was gone, but there was a body pressing into his and lips against his ear, “Come on, soldier. We’re clean enough.”

Suddenly Tony was pulling him out of the shower, a soft towel wiped them both free of stray water drops quickly before Tony was urging him to the bed.

“Tell me what you want,” Steve said softly before kissing Tony and lowering him to the bed.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, Steve. Now hurry up,” he said, grinning impatiently. But his heart fluttered with nerves. It’d been years since he slept with anyone. Especially someone as breath taking as Steve. But there he was, rummaging through the bedside table drawer for lube and a condom. Pulling Tony’s legs open, kissing his thighs as warm, wet fingers circled his ass.

“So beautiful,” Steve said as he pressed a finger in slowly. Working it back and forth as he lavished attention with his mouth on Tony’s torso and neck, and back down to his hip bones. “So perfect,” he said as he added another finger, gently working him open.

Tony missed this feeling so much, it made him ache for Steve’s cock. It wasn’t just the sexual satisfaction, but knowing that Steve was doing this because he wanted as badly as Tony made it all the better. His breath hitched as Steve added a third finger twisting them in a way that made Tony’s hips roll, wanting more.

“You good?”

“Get in me, now.” Tony demanded and pulled Steve up for a rough kiss.

“Yes, sir.” He smiled and bit Tony’s lip gently.

He leaned back a moment, rolling on the condom and slicking his cock up once more before lining up with Tony. He gathered Tony in his arms, and pushed in slowly, watching the genius’s eyes close and his head sink back as he let out a low moan.

“Tony, you okay?”

“So fucking good,” he said, already moving himself to get more. “I need you,” he breathed, his arms wrapping around Steve’s neck, his legs wrapping around his waist as Steve began to thrust.  Their lips met  in a fierce kiss, Steve’s thrust matching the pace. Fast and deep. Tony moaned into the kiss and the soldier moved his attention to the man’s exposed neck, bound to leave a mark Tony would be able to trace for days. His hand reached between them and he wrapped a hand around Tony’s aching cock. “Steve, oh god,” the genius moaned.

Their bodies were in sync, like they were made for this very coupling. It seemed to end so soon, but none the less intense. Tony’s cum spilling between their bodies, and Steve’s filling the condom, they collapsed on each other, smashed together by the incredible force of their white out orgasm. After a moment Steve pulled out of Tony, who let out a small noise of discomfort at the loss. But he was back in a moment, cleaning up the lube and cum with a warm cloth off of Tony. When he was finished, they crawled under the plush comforter. Tony pressed himself into Steve’s arm, his head on the broad chest.

“Was that okay?” Steve asked, a little out of breath.

“are you joking? That was phenomenal, Steve,” he laughed into the warm skin.

“Oh..Good, I had an amazing time too.” He said, awkwardly before Tony leaned up and kissed him.

“Really, it was great.” He paused for a moment, “it was my first time since before..well, you know.”

“Thanks for sharing that with me then.”

“Was it good for you?”

“It was amazing, Tony. It’s the first time something like this has meant something to me in a while. I’m pretty sure I’m never leaving your bed again.”

“I’d be okay with that,” Tony said, chuckling. He rubbed his hand over Steve’s chest. “I’m glad you quit.”

“Me too.”

He smiled, and let the post orgasm bliss carry him off to sleep.


End file.
